


Today I Argued With A Dog.

by vocalfew



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: ashdrew is rly only kinda just implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-04 02:19:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16337933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vocalfew/pseuds/vocalfew
Summary: Today I argued with a dog. He told me that my shirt looked like vomit.I conversed with my cat, cut ties with a squirrel, and it's all thanks to Shane Madej.





	Today I Argued With A Dog.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Buzzfeed Superpowers AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16152443) by [AllAreLies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllAreLies/pseuds/AllAreLies), [angelsaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/pseuds/angelsaves), [bessyboo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessyboo/pseuds/bessyboo), [forzandopod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forzandopod/pseuds/forzandopod), [mardia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia). 



There should be a logical explanation for this.   
Actually, no. This what happens inside of a children's film. This is literally Dr. Dolittle starring me, Buzzfeed's least likely person to have this happen to...   
  
Was that a sentence? I think so. My head still hurts... Guess I should start from how I got into this stupid mess.   
Oh, you know what I mean. You read the title. I can talk to animals, and for some reason, dogs hate me the most.  
  
Anyway, here goes...  
  
  
  
"We're gonna go get drinks, you comin' with?" Ryan's hand landed on my shoulder as he stopped short just in front of my desk. I swiveled in my chair and pushed my knuckles into my eyes, clearly exhausted. He noted this, and added, "you look like you need a few drinks."  
  
Dreadfully, I turned him down.   
"Can't this time. I've gotta finish editing a few more videos." He landed a firm swat to my shoulder and with that he was off, a few people already trailing behind him. As they all disappeared into the hallway, I melted into my chair. Maybe I should have one drink. Just one... Or maybe three... No. _No_ , I have to finish this by tonight, or I'll be too far behind. I didn't get this position by slacking off. You got this, Andrew. You got this.  
  
Just focus.  
  
With a small shake of my head, I leaned back towards my computer and began to cut.. clip... paste... add... cut... cut... cut... overlay...   
  
I can wake up extra early tomorrow, come back here, and finish.   
Something is calling my name, and it rhymes with smodka.   
  
"Guys, hey, guys?" I called across the empty office before getting up and jogging down the hall. Hopefully, they were stopped by Billy the bum who hangs out and begs for cash. Let's hope he's doing something really weird, something that'll make them stop.  
  
As I made it downstairs, I could tell that they'd already left the building. All of the lights were already off, maybe they were still walking to the car. Or maybe they chose to walk to the bar, maybe I can be their designated driver... No, that's stupid, I want alcohol. Maybe Ashly will cave in and offer to drive.   
  
To my dismay, they weren't in the parking lot either. For some reason, I had been too winded to realize that I was in the middle of a lane. As I stood, two bright lights began to grow too close for comfort.   
  
Headlights..  
  
I opened my mouth to scream, and my knees buckled instead of letting my body toss itself out of the way. Bodies are dumb, anyway.  
Anyway, as you already could have guessed, I got hit by a goddamn car.  
  
"Ohmygod!"  
My consciousness shifted in and out, car doors slammed shut and a few faces were hovering over me.  
  
"Yep, that's blood."  
  
"Shane, I _told_ you to slow down. Everyone knows you don't speed in a parking lot."  
  
"The whole lot is empty, how was I supposed to know Andrew was going to teleport in front of my car?  
  
I felt too heavy to move, too dizzy to speak, but still, I was floating.  
  
See, what my brain did was this wacky little thing called shock. I really thought I was floating. Do you know how fucking cool that would be if I had gotten hit by a car and immediately started floating? Criss Angel Mind Freak. I know.  
  
I'm pretty sure the hoard of morons who just hit me were loading me into their car though. Hopefully I had enough leg space to... God, I'm really tired.  
  
_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._  
  
  
Reaching for my alarm, I drowsily swung my arm over to my side, only to find that my bedside table was missing. My clock was missing. My room was missing.  
In fact, I was in a hospital.   
  
"Oh, shh, shh, shh, he's waking up!"  
  
Without opening my eyes, I knew there were too many people in the room already. With a frustrated groan, I flailed my arm to shoo everyone away.  
  
"Get out of my room."  
  
"Andrew, it's Shane..." there was a slight pause as the tension in the air grew thick enough to feel by someone who had been clotheslined by a car.  
"So, funny story, I hit you with my car, and your stupid body made a dent in it--"   
  
I stirred. There was a brief sound of shuffling, muffled bickering, and the door closing. A throat cleared.  
  
"He's not in a coma, is he?"   
  
"I don't think comatose patients make verbal orders, so no. He's probably awake."  
  
"Oh, well.. Do you think you could leave us alone for just a second then? I, uh..."  
  
"We don't you to lie in order to be alone with Andrew, Ash." Quinta's voice came softly, followed by soft footsteps and a soft, 'i'll just be a minute'.  
  
Oh boy. Time to totally mess with her.  
  
"Um..." she began nervously, settling down into the doctors chair that rolled closer to my bed. Softly, I took in a breath and muttered quietly.  
  
"Oh.. Andrew?"  
  
"Ashmmmph..." I sighed.  
  
Her breath hitched.   
"Are you awake?"  
  
"Ashl.. Ashly..."   
  
Silence. This was too easy.  
  
"Close." I whispered.  
  
"Close? Did you.. say.. close? Oh, uh, alright.. Do you need water, or--"   
  
"Close to me..."  
  
I tried my best to keep my cool, and carried on mumbling.  
  
"I love.."  
  
" _Andrew_..."  
  
"I luh.."  
  
"Andrew?"  
  
"I love yhh.."  
  
I felt her lean in close, her breath hot on my cheek. I opened my eyes quickly and smiled at her. "I love your shoes. Are those new?"  
She nearly jumped a foot in the air and screamed, falling back into her chair. After she watched me sit up and cackle madly, I could tell she was annoyed.  
  
"Andrew, that's not funny!"   
  
"Oh, it is so funny."  
  
The door opened and the room suddenly flooded with people I knew. A very guilty cocktail of Quinta, Shane, Ryan, and Steven.  
  
"Is everything okay?" Steven asked cautiously, his eyes darting back to a very stunned Ashly, and a very giggly me.  
  
Before I could respond, and nurse sidestepped her way in and pulled a clipboard from the wall. "So I talked to the nurse that was just in, and it's only a minor concussion. I'll have you released in just a few minutes, just make sure you're not taking any blood thinners, wearing any hats, you did, in fact, get stitches, but it was nothing too severe. You're gonna be fine, Mr..."  
Doing a double take of her clipboard, I could almost feel her wincing at my last name.   
  
"Il-nick-ee" I chimed in. The cloud of confusion cleared from her face and she smiled and nodded, striding out of the room.   
  
No one skipped a beat when looking towards Shane, who shrank under everyone's gaze.   
"What? I was only going like ten miles over the speed limit!"   
  
"In a parking lot. You damn lost your mind!" Quinta barked before pursing her lips and leaving the room. He held out both of his hands and shrugged his shoulders up towards his ears.   
"Okay! I'm sorry I hit you with my new car, Andrew, that's going to cost you a little bit over a hundred dollars."   
  
The room fell silent.   
  
"Tell Quinta to get back in here, Shane is going to need more stitches than me."  
  
  
The room suddenly erupted into protests and frantic arms holding me away from Shane. He was lucky that I was slightly brain dead. I could have taken him.   
  
After that, I can't remember very much. The doctor told me that I'd be missing some parts here and there, but I was finally dropped off at home after I called myself an uber. I refused to let Shane drive, he might run over another human being and then blatantly not apologize. Whatever.  
  
As I stepped in the door, I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn't expecting to have such an eventful day, this all could have been avoided if I had finished editing those videos. In retrospect, some of this is still my fault.   
  
Sluggishly, I padded over to my room, not bothering to fix myself something to eat. Of course, I was hungry, but my whole body was still sore and I just needed to lie down.  
  
I felt my cat weave in and out of my legs, rubbing up against my ankles with her feather duster of a tail.  
"You look like hell."  
  
"Yeah," I grumbled, "Shane hit me with his car."   
  
Suddenly, I froze in my tracks. Turning around to scan my apartment, I realized that...  
  
I lived alone.  
Who said that?  
  
"Who's Shane?" the squeaky voice asked, "does he have treats?"  
  
Frantically, I scanned the room. There was no one here but my cat and me.  
"Who said that?" I asked coldly, ready to make a beeline to my room.   
  
"Down here, blondie."  
  
I gazed down to see my cat sitting curtly in front of me, tilting her head. I must have hit my head too hard. Of course, my cat couldn't be talking to me, cats don't talk.  
"Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer."  
  
A scream escaped my lips and I stumbled back, landing on my carpet. In an attempt to scramble away, she trotted up to me and jumped onto my chest, perching herself perfectly in front of my face.  
  
"Don't act so surprised, big guy. We've been through this before. 'I wish you could just tell me when you're hungry so I don't have to guess,' does that ring a bell?"  
  
Blinking cluelessly at her, I tried my best to talk. If she can talk, she can communicate. My cat knows everything about me, I'm not ready for her to make comments on it. She's seen everything I do when I'm alone, she knows that I sing in the shower. She knows I shit with the door open. She knows that I make lightsaber sounds with oblong objects that vaguely resemble lightsabers. She knows that sometimes I underdo my eggs but still eat them anyway. I didn't expect it, but I burst into a fit of laughter. My stomach hurt by the time I had slowed down, and my cat simply sat there and watched me, now a fucking actual maniac who can speak to his pet, laugh like a madman until he fell asleep on his living room floor.  
  
My phone was the first thing to wake me up the next day. It hadn't occurred to me that I still had to get to the office early and finish those edits, or that my cat was really able to talk to me now. In fact, I had forgotten all of those things until the time on my phone read 2:04 pm.   
  
I scrambled to my feet, immediately feeling dizzy. It took a while to balance myself out, but when I did, it was a race to the bathroom. My stomach churned and the world spun beneath me, and my vomit completely missed the toilet that I was desperately aiming for.   
  
"You gonna clean that up, or can I?" the familiar voice came from the doorway. Gross.  
  
"That's disgusting. Please don't do that." I croaked.  
  
After washing my mouth out and brushing my teeth, I had to shoo her out of the bathroom to avoid eating the emptied contents of my stomach. I'm already late, but now I'm going to be extra late. I can't call in, cause I have a deadline. What would I say anyway? 'Listen, bossman, I gotta stay home today, I think my cat is talking to me because Shane hit me with his car'? Maybe next time.  
  
It took a little longer to get ready, but I managed to get the door and to my car.   
  
Distant voices shouted at each other from down the street, which caused me to pause and look over.  
  
"Come over here and fuck me!" one voice said.  
  
"No, you come over here and fuck _me!_ " the other called back. This went on a few minutes before my mind finally processed that I was watching two birds crow at each other back and forth to fuck each other.   
  
"What the hell, Andrew," I whispered to myself. I tugged open my car door, instantly being hit with a wave of nausea. For the second time today, I threw up on my shoes.  
  
"Welcome back, handsome," my cat cooed as I stepped back inside, carrying my sick covered boots. I figured it would be a bad idea to drive, especially since I think that I can talk to cats... And birds. Maybe just animals in general?  
  
"You can't talk," I replied bitterly, making my way back to my room. I was determined to go to work despite my condition, but maybe it would just be best to give in. 

  
  
Fuck it, I'll just take the train.  
  
  
The day went rather smoothly after the strange events this morning, and it took me twenty minutes standing in the middle of the parking lot that I had left my car at home.   
  
"Hey!"  
  
I turned on my heel.  
  
"Hey you!"   
  
Again, I turned, looking for the person yelling at me. A stray dog dragging a leash behind it stood in front of the fence. It was yelling at me.  
  
"Yeah, long legs, I'm talkin' to you! Your hair looks like the shit I took two minutes ago!"  
  
I'm not exactly sure why I was offended by this in general, or why this dog was insulting my hair. I turned back towards the sidewalk and kept walking, listening to it harass me.  
  
"Dogs can't even tell time!" I shouted, my gaze not faltering from the way ahead of me. It began to bark, then darted off. Shockingly enough, I hadn't realized that it ran away just to get around the gate in order to get closer to me. It trailed behind, chuckling bitterly. Already aggravated, I tried my best to ignore it.  
  
This fucking dog. This stupid fucking dog thinks he knows me. This dumb mutt that  _could_ have potentially been adorable before it could speak to me, was insulting me on my fashion choices, my hair, and whether he would think twice about peeing on me or not. This stupid, dumb, idiot dog. I'm not sure whether this is Shane's fault or not, but I sure as HELL am not going to have a public feud with a dog that can't even wipe its own ass. Dogs don't have thumbs. Dogs can't make fashion choices, they eat shit and vomit, lick their balls and eat dead things. I'm not having any of this shit today. I want to wake up, kick Shane Madej in the teeth, and reverse this stupid... _This_.. Whatever _this_ is.  
  
My whole being was on fire. I turned around and crouched down to my knees, and stared that god damn dog in the stupid eyes.   
"You're just a dog. You don't even know how my shoes are made. For all you know, this could be the skin of your ancestors. How does it feel to know that you don't even have thumbs? You can't wear pants or go on dates or drink wine, you eat off of the floor, and you can't even stomach chocolate. So if I were you, I would--"  
  
"Oh my god, Andrew!"  
  
I stood up immediately, cutting myself off. I was obviously red in the face, and I could see Quinta walking up to me.  
  
"Hey... It's... You.. Hey, you."  
  
"I see you've met Harvey, he's the new addition to the family." She was all smiles and didn't even know that I was just accidentally trash talking her dog.   
  
"Yeah, he's adorable. You should give him some cool dog shoes or something."   
  
She furrowed her brows in confusion as I turned away, not saying another word.   
  
"Wh...what...?" I could hear her say from afar. It was too late to turn back now.  
  
Today, my cat tried to flirt with me, I overheard two birds trying to... well, _you know_ , and I argued with a dog. Quinta's dog.    
  
I should go back to the hospital.


End file.
